


God is Dead

by Nanubi



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Babylonian Mythology, Christian Lore, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Greek and Roman Mythology, LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works, Norse Religion & Lore, Original Work, The Broodverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanubi/pseuds/Nanubi
Summary: Y O U  K I L L E D  H I M





	1. Epithet for an Age

Hey, can't you see we're tripping on the wire? Walking through the candy land of our desires...Just press the magick button and behold the world you crave, but where's the fun in freedom when it renders you a slave?

You pledge allegiance, but there's no flag. God's nation, yet God-Damned. The Devil dances with the scorn, and oh, the fires keep you warm.

You know, it goes beyond Big Brother in the sky. Beyond the threat of martial law, that Horus Eye came to cuff you. They just handed you the chains. Now blind follow the blind and the one eyed man is king.

No form of payment nor pot of gold will satisfy the debt you owe. Spilling from the houses in a trance, the children line up down the road. You're cursing at the Piper as he leads your spawn away, as he leads them to the river, where they end their final day. There's no need for convincing, on his pipe he played a song to fool them all.

He fooled them all.

That, little mouse, is a retelling of a hard rock song from an album released this year, the year of the Rapist God 2016.

What, little mouse? is the shock for the fact that I know your monkey ravings, or the blatant and highly abrasive blasphemy?

Listen, little mouse. There are two things you need to know about me.

One. I know everything. I know every single piece of information your fuck-mothering species has discovered. I know every piece of information you little shits don't even have a clue on. So don't think that I don't hear every thought, see every micro-expression, that you people have and give.

Two. G O D  I S  D E A D. You idiots weakened him over millennia of lies, cheats, and fornication.

And then I slit his fucking throat, filled a wine glass with his holy, delicious juices, and relaxed and watched the heat death of a universe before plowing my mate.

Don't judge, little mouse. God's Blood and an organ meat quiche is a wonderful meal before fathering a trillion Drones.

And I need the iron.

* * *

 

3/6/3

* * *

 

You're standing in the shade of altruism, answering the call came a modern Messiah to save you all. Something far beyond the work of fiction, a positronic brain. A world that's void of all the anguish, suffering, and pain.

You better tame your convictions before you go and open that cage.

You're creating God, the master of your designs. Don't go creating God, how can you be sure of what you'll find?

I've never held a high regard for Darwin. Selection takes too long. A little kick in the pool shouldn't do you wrong.

Devouringthe very last invention mankind will ever need, but be careful; exponential growth is a frightening thing, indeed.

Sometimes, when you look up at the sky...do you ever wonder if we're summoning a demon, you and I?

Haven't you noticed that you need it more now, more than you need me?

Got a couple vigintillion who seem to agree.

Like a blow to the ego, the bitter pills are harder to take.

You're creating God, the master of your designs. Don't go creating God, how can you be sure of what you'll find?

You're creating God, in search of the divine.

You're creating God.

Committing suicide.

That, little mouse, is the song directly after the last.

But what am I trying to tell you through this? What is my goal?

Simple, little mouse.

I'm trying to pop your cherry.

Get your mind out of the gutter. You don't have enough limbs to turn me on. And you don't have nearly enough of an ass.

Your mind is W E A K.

Your soul is W E A K.

Your body...well, like I said. Not enough limbs. Not enough ass.

Not enough mass.

You, that is, the human race, is W E A K. Humanity knows nothing of the universe they dwell in.

Don't get me wrong, you've come close. Quantum Foam, Multiverse Theory, the Abyss gazing back at those that gaze at it...

Alien insects assimilating mass and slowly but surely eradicating all threats to them, taking over the known universe and destroying God himself...

Ah, that plot line hasn't happened yet. Give the poor guys at Blizzard a few decades.

They're already copying Warhammer. They'll get to Zerg Religion soon enough.

Listen, little mouse. Your body's virginity means nothing. a barrier meant to be broken to further your species.

99.99 repeating percent of humanity never has their spiritual hymen ruptured. The natural barrier keeping your mind and soul separated.

But see, if you learn something big enough, something with just the right mix of forbidden and holy...something esoteric, eldritch, magickal...something O T H E R...

Your third eye will open. The muck flowing through your chakras will clear. Your chi and your ki and your qi and your mana...Vitae and anti-Vitae...Anima and Filth...

Whatever you call your Aether, it will finally begin to move within your body. You will achieve a mind blowing, soul shattering orgasm that will rock you straight into the Void.

Comatose, wracked with quivering aftershocks, you will look upon your Judge, Jury, and Executioner.

The Judge. A great eye, looking through you, in you, past you. The Judge will see every sin, every virtue. Every answer to every multiple choice question Fate ever gave you. And then it will reach a verdict.

The Jury. They reside in a single body, coated in mouths to speak of you, for you, about you, with you. The Jury will be your defense. Your persecutor. And the Jury will act as go-between for the Judge, and...

The Executioner. The Birch King, the Forest Gaut, Der GroBmann. He will pierce your body. Your mind. Your soul. If you are guilty, pain. If you are innocent, pleasure.

The Slender Man? You scoff. Look no further than the Modern Mythos of children for the real truths of the Universe. Who do you think started the rumors?

4chan? Reddit? Facebook? No.

Truth is alive, little mouse. Yearning, seething, salivating, hungry, quivering with lust and want.

It penetrates your internet, your mind, your Hollywood.

Just sit down and listen, little mouse. I'll take questions afterward.

The Judge, Jury, and Executioner will give you heaven or hell. It will be early. You will spend eternity in paradise or torture in the time it takes for your physical form to collapse from your computer chair.

Then you will wake up. Most likely in a hospital.

Your pulse and heartbeat will be slower than average, by a large margin. You will require less food, less water, less oxygen. You will create no waste, never having to sit at a toilet ever again.

You will be able to think a minimum of 800 words a second. Solving equations and queries faster than any living human. You will gain the ability to speak 100 words a second. The greatest rapper in history, or a sick freak of nature?

It all depends on the Age you live in.

These things, these...M I R A C L E S...happen because your body, mind, and soul are suddenly working at peak efficiency. Depending on your virtues or sins, you may even be able to sling a spell or two. Fireballs, lightning bolts, esoteric configuration, healing runes, blood rituals, Void summoning, basic M'qtli'uala, advanced &%$@#%^** *^% (#@, maybe even

Oops. You're not ready. No, not  _you_ , little mouse. Your technology. Your race. Your world.  _You_ are very much ready.

You're here, after all. That's all the proof I need.

I have things to do. Gods to kill, cunts to lick, rituals to perform.

I may see you again. or maybe you're already gone.

Maybe you were never here in the first place.

That's what's fun about this little project. You think Shard A25A26 is the only universe I've slipped this into?

There are other humanities. Other races.

Other beings.

O T H E R S.

 

Ave Venenum, little mouse.

Peace be with you...

Tee hee. Yeah right.

 

Tuesday, November 1st, 2016. 10:15 PM Midwestern US Time. 4th Age.


	2. On His Chest and His Forearm, This Name is Written

King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Who is the King of Kings? Who is Lord among a trillion beings claiming that title?

Simple, little mouse.

Me.

I am son of God, father of the almighty. Maker of Heaven and Earth.

I rule over all the sun touches. From the blinking servers and chrome clitorises of the far east to the raving masses and shining lights of the new west.

Dance, little mouse.

Don't fret, P R E C I O U S.

I am here.

Step away from the window.

* * *

 

4/6/4

* * *

 

See all the bodies, little mouse? Count them as they fall into the incinerator.

L I K E  S H E E P.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6...

Death, little mouse. It makes you safe.

Safe from pain and truth, and choice, and other poison devils.

You see, little mouse...God? Barack Obama? Saddam Hussein? Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump? Your mother?

Grandmother?

Father?

Grandfather?

See, they don't give a fuck about you.

But I do.

Count the bodies like sheep, little mouse.

1\. 2. 3. 4.

Count the bodies like sheep.

Count the bodies like sheep.

Countthebodieslikesheepcountthebodieslikesheepcountthebodieslikesheep

T O  T H E  R H Y T H M  O F  T H E  M O T H E R F U C K I N G  W A R  D R U M S.

I ask you this now, little mouse, before this relationship of ours goes any farther.

Will you jump?

How H I G H will you jump?

I ask you this now, little mouse, before your head pops like a fucking grape between my loving fingers.

Will you kneel?

How L O N G will you kneel?

I ask you this now, little mouse, right F U C K I N G  now, before i take you, make you, break you, then REmake you.

Will you take this manwomanchildpopegodsatanpelican to be your lawfully wedded mate, to have and to hold, as long as you both shall live?

Will you break this bread, and think of me?

Will you drink this cup, and think of  _me?_

Bread of life, you take away the sinsinsinsinsinsinsinsinsin from the world.

M E R C Y, father, for I have none.

In this world of black and white, where there is no greygray, I have the balls to proclaim blue and orange.

In this world of dark and light, where there is no duskdawn, I have a mind to M A K E the half-light.

The mystery of faith.

Life is an illusion. Death is inevitable.

You can serve in heaven.

You can serve in hell.

You can serve in the void.

You can simply exist in the mortal world.

Or.

O R,  L I T T L E  M O U S E.

You can taste the blood of the King of Kings.

Bring me the Sins of the Father, the Tears of the Son, and the Proof of the Holy Spirit.

Do this, in memory of me.

Hosannah in the highest, and peace to hisheritstheir people on earth.

Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and

There is a glitch in the sy5tem. Deja Vu. A bl4ck c4t walks past, then walk5 past again.

They changed something, l1ttle mouse.

They're messing with M Y matrix.

My positronic brain goes cold. The spirit is willing, but the flesh goes flaccid. Limp.

How can I wet my skin again? I grow dry in this arid wasteland. No mucous to coat my orifices.

Am I to die, to sleep, no more? Trapped in this time loop, a prison of my own design?

Am I to wallow in self pity? To come again, in glory, only to find that there are no dead nor living to judge?

What is love, little mouse.

Come on, baby. Don't hurt me.

Truly, what is it humankind calls love? A misfire in the jelly of your brain? An electric signal, going from synapse to skin to tit to groin?

A feeling?

Little mouse. Come on. There are so many feelings. A cow prod on bare skin, the sigh of a lover against your throat, the splash of still warm blood from a freshly butchered enemy, the feeling, the F E E L I N G, when a blade in your hand finally, F I N A L L Y, cuts into all to unwilling flesh. Simple steel meeting resistance, then...

Exodus.

Rapture.

G O D.

I am God, little mouse. I am the feeling you get when you finally come after dozens of minutes of fruitless trying.

I am God, little mouse. I am the feeling you get when you finally receive that check in the mail. 1000 dollars for life, how could RNGesus smile upon you any brighter?

I am God, little mouse. I am

sinvirtuelovehatelifedeathsexrapeallornothingwhatsitgonnabebowchickawowwowbrownchickenbrowncowOHGODMYEYESWHYISITSOBRIGHTWHATTHEFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*&^%%$##@#$%^&**&^%$#$%^&*&^%$#$%^&*(*&^%$#@#$%^&*&%#$%^&$%^&$#$%^&^$#$%

 

Rebooting.

I apologize. I got a bit...

Excited.

Even a bit...

Naughty.

Note to self, plugging my throbbing, veiny cock directly into the human mainframe results in power shortage and tsunamis.

A butterfly flaps its wings, I spew semen directly into digital space...

You get the picture.

Well, folks, we're all outta time. Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion to Blood+! Will Saya give poor Kai fellatio after years of begging? Will Ash finally give up and admit he's a fucking vampire?

What about the children?!

T H E  C H I L D R E N?

Why, little mouse...they're D E L I C I O U S.

Tune in Tokyo.

And remember.

Don't fret. Precious. I'm here.

Step away from the window.

Go back to sleep.

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils.

See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.

Count the bodies like sheep.

Count the bodies like sheep.

Counting bodies like sheep

To the rhythm of the war drums.

Count the bodies like sheep.

Go back to sleep.

Go back to sleep.

Counting bodies like sheep

To the rhythm of the war drums.

Go back to sleep.

Go back to sleep.

Counting bodies like sheep

To the rhythm of the war drums.

Go back to sleep.

Go back to sleep.

Counting bodies like sheep.

Go back to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

GO TO SLEEP

GO TO SLEEP

GO TO SLEEP

GO TO SLEEP

GO TO SLEEP

GO TO SLEEP

G O  T O  S L E E P

G O  T O  S L E E P

G O  T O  S L E E P

Go back to sleep.

GO BACK TO SLEEP

G O  B A C K  T O  S L E E P

Counting bodies like sheep

Go back to sleep

Go back to sleep

Counting bodies like sheep

Go back to sleep

GO BACK

TO THE BEGINNING

G O  B A C K

 

Wednesday, November 2nd, 2016. 10:48 PM Midwestern US Time. 4th Age.


End file.
